


Duncan or Methos Say 'No'

by hafital



Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-02-16
Updated: 2003-02-16
Packaged: 2017-10-28 03:55:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/303466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hafital/pseuds/hafital
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the Fifteen Minute Challenge. Duncan or Methos say 'No'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Duncan or Methos Say 'No'

"Do you have plans for tonight?"

MacLeod hesitated before answering, looking warily at Methos. "No." He pushed his couch around the loft, trying to figure out which way he wanted things oriented.

Methos stood watching MacLeod, a perplexed look on his face. "Some friends of mine from the University are having a party tonight. I thought maybe you might want to go. Just what are you doing?" MacLeod looked at Methos again and smiled at his look of confusion.

"What does it look like I'm doing?"

"Pushing a couch around for no good reason?" Methos looked at the jumble of crates and boxes littering the floor of the loft. Methos picked up a broom and peered at it like he was trying to figure out where the 'on' button was.

"Redecorating." MacLeod glowered. "Here, take this and make yourself useful." He thrust a dustbin into Methos' other hand and pointed to a pile of dust and debris.

Proving that he did indeed know how to use a broom, Methos started from one end of the loft and made his way to the other. "So how about it?"

"How about what?"

"Tonight?" Methos swept over MacLeod's shoes.

Mac looked down at his dusted shoes and back at Methos. "Who are these people again?"

"Friends of mine. You'll like them."

MacLeod narrowed his eyes. "Friends, huh."

"I'm supposed to bring another person."

"And you picked me? I'm flattered."

Methos smiled. "Well, Joe was busy."

Duncan frowned, shook his shoes free of dust, harrumphed over to Methos, and grabbed the broom. "Thanks a lot."

"So you'll go?"

"I didn't say that."

"Great. I'll come by around eight." Methos started for the door, then stopped and turned.

"Oh. Almost forgot. Here." He gave MacLeod the dustbin before leaving.

* * *

"What kind of party is this?" MacLeod rummaged through his drawer and tugged on some underwear. Methos had arrived promptly at eight, catching MacLeod just out of his shower. He hurriedly pulled on a pair of dark jeans.

"Casual."

MacLeod picked a shirt and put it on, reaching for a light jacket to go with it. It was a warm night. He caught Methos looking at him before dropping his gaze, turning to the rest of the loft.

"Not bad," he said, indicating the loft's new look.

"No thanks to you."

Methos smirked and then shrugged. "Ready?"

"What's the rush?" MacLeod struggled with a boot.

"We have 8:30 reservations."

"For a party?"

"No. For dinner."

MacLeod paused mid tug of his boot. He looked at Methos.

"If that's all right with you? It's early still, for the party. These things never really start before ten." Methos came to stand near MacLeod.

"Oh. Right." MacLeod stood up. "Okay, ready."

Methos reached and flipped down MacLeod's collar. MacLeod stood still and felt the light brush of Methos' fingers against his neck. It made him shiver.

Methos' bright eyes looked at him. "Let's go, then." 

* * *

It was early summer and the night was soft and breezy, descending slowly into darkness. MacLeod started for the T-bird. A hand on his arm stopped him.

"I'll drive."

MacLeod looked at Methos. The heavy light of dusk floated between them, obscuring MacLeod's perception. Something whispered at him, curling around his stomach, floating away before MacLeod could really understand it. He didn't know why Methos offering to drive should startle him so. He nodded, trying not to look quizzically at Methos.

It was a nice little French bistro, not far from the University. MacLeod wasn't very hungry, having eaten earlier, but he didn't say anything, not wanting to discourage Methos.

"So tell me about these friends." Methos never spoke much about his life, their time together always marred by the constant pervasive pressure of Immortality and all that came with it. Sometimes, MacLeod thought, it was easy to forget that life was so much more. That Methos had invited MacLeod, even to something as silly as a party, meant a lot to him. But he wasn't sure how to express that to Methos.

"Not much to tell, really. This fellow, Tariq, whose party it is, is actually a friend of a friend. I don't know him well at all. Met him though an old Sorbonne colleague now teaching at Seacouver who always calls me for all these little things -- parties, gatherings, and what-not." Methos shrugged. "You know how it goes sometimes, when you find yourself in the midst of a group of people you call friends whom you actually don't know very well at all, but who suddenly seem to take up all your time."

MacLeod nodded. Yes, this did happen, when he let himself become mixed up in mortals and their lives. Although, not recently. He thought of Tessa when he first knew her. "You don't sound very enthusiastic."

Methos' eyes reflected the light from the candle at their table. He shrugged again, not answering at first. Perhaps noticing that MacLeod wasn't eating much, Methos poured him more wine. "It's easy to get mixed up with them. To see their lives. To become a part of it, even superficially. They're like an anchor. They'll never know how important they are."

A long silence followed. MacLeod watched Methos as he fidgeted with his napkin. A waiter came up to them, asking a question MacLeod didn't hear. Methos looked at him. "Did you want dessert?"

MacLeod swallowed and shook his head. "No."

"Just the check," Methos said, dismissing the waiter. Several minutes later, they left the restaurant. Methos had paid and MacLeod felt like he was missing a grand opportunity to tease his friend about this. But it just wasn't there and he settled for knocking his shoulder affectionately against Methos', pleased with the smile he received.

* * *

"We don't have to stay long," said Methos. They paused at the door of the apartment building where the party was being held. The buzz of music and conversation drifted out through the open windows. "If you don't want to."

MacLeod smiled. "Either way, Methos." He reached for the door.

"Mac." Methos grabbed his arm, searching for words. His fingers dug into Mac's arm.

MacLeod touched Methos' shoulder. "Come on." MacLeod placed one hand on Methos' back and gently pushed him towards the door.

Loud music. Smoky rooms packed tight with little air. Chips and dip in plastic bowls. Bright orange cheese doodles and plates of cookies and brownies. A makeshift bar by the sink in the kitchen offering beer and mixed drinks and even a little wine. As they entered, Methos was greeted with a cheerful chorus of "Adam! You made it," and they were soon enveloped into the heart of the party.

MacLeod watched, captivated by all these people he didn't know who knew Methos, who called him friend and touched and hugged him with such casualness. Methos leaned down and gave a small woman he called Marie a hug and a kiss on the cheek. But, he realized, they didn't know _his_ Methos. No, not entirely. Methos looked up and caught MacLeod's eyes.

"Hello, everyone. This is my friend, Duncan MacLeod."

* * *

They were mostly twenty-something graduate student types, fresh-faced and young. MacLeod could see what drew Methos to them, their curious mixture of brash intelligence and alarming ignorance. Never one to be shy, MacLeod found himself in the midst of the party, easing into conversations and talking about everything from the relative merits of the Power Puff Girls to the situation in the Middle East.

Methos was always nearby. Occasionally, their eyes would meet across the smoke-filled room or they would break away from this conversation or that circle of people and check up on each other. Methos took it upon himself to make sure MacLeod always had a fresh drink and soon MacLeod felt the pleasant thrum of alcohol.

MacLeod watched Methos. Methos spent most of his time with Marie, the woman from earlier, whom MacLeod discovered was the colleague from the Sorbonne, currently a Classics adjunct at the University. Petite, with long hair and large dark eyes. Perhaps it was this Marie that drew Methos, he thought, noticing a passing similarity to Alexa, more in manner than in looks.

At one point, MacLeod looked around and noticed it was late, close to three in the morning, and hardly anyone was left. He looked around for Methos, felt him close by, but he was nowhere in sight. Someone pointed him in the direction of the roof. Taking the stairs and following the sound of voices, he found the door to the rooftop and was greeted by the stars and moon and by fresh air.

There he found a small cache of people -- a few couples along the edge, laughing and talking. A small circle sitting on the floor.

"Mac."

MacLeod saw Methos sitting in the circle and walked over to them.

They shifted to make room for him and he leaned over to sit down.

"Ever play spin-the-bottle, Duncan?" asked the fellow named Tariq. MacLeod halted halfway down. He looked at Methos who's eyes glinted in the starlight, as unreadable as ever, but MacLeod thought he could see a healthy dose of amusement there.

"No," he said, cautiously, sitting the rest of the way down, thinking he should get right back up and wait for Methos downstairs.

"Well, you're just in time," came the cheerful reply. MacLeod glowered at Methos, sitting across from him, who simply lifted his eyebrows and tried not to smile, saying 'well, get up and go if you don't want to'. He sighed. A pretty girl next to him smiled shyly at him. Well, it couldn't be all that bad.

He was lucky in the first few spins, somehow picking a seat that the spinning empty beer bottle kept skipping over. Some kissed each other quickly, a fast peck on the lips. Others really went for it, inciting lots of whoops and cries of laughter. There was no rhyme or reason to this, he noticed, no common behavior based on gender or sexual orientation, or age. He thought, rather, it had more to do with how much someone had had to drink. And he had to acknowledge the appeal of the game, seeing two attractive women kissing passionately right in front of him. He peered around the women and waggled his eyebrows at Methos, who laughed and smiled back at him.

The bottle liked Methos, landing on him often. Methos' eyes always found his just before he kissed someone. Methos wasn't afraid to kiss. MacLeod watched Methos, as the bottle landed on Marie, noticing how careful he was with her.

The pretty girl next to him, whose name he found was Donna, spun the bottle and it landed on him. Her lips were cherry-flavored and sweet. And then it was his turn. His heart beat loudly as he spun the bottle; he held his breath, and the bottle landed on a young man sitting to his right.

"Woooo, Robert!" cheered everyone.

MacLeod let go his breath. Robert, he'd noticed, was one of the quick kissers. Over and done with, on to the next spin.

Robert spun, landing on Methos. They kissed. It was Methos' turn.

Of course, it was inevitable. MacLeod had known that as soon as he'd sat down. He watched the bottle spin and land on him. Well, it was a long time coming, he thought, maybe since even before this night. But his heart still beat furiously in his chest.

Methos looked at him a long time from across the circle. Everyone else called out his name and clapped. "Duncan!"

He panicked a little, suddenly not wanting to kiss Methos in front of everyone and because of a game. It shouldn't be like this, he thought. It should be different.

Then MacLeod changed his mind. He leaned across, almost on his knees, and slowly brought his lips against Methos'. He felt Methos' hand reach up and cradle his head. MacLeod kissed him again and his mouth opened and groaned as he invited Methos' tongue inside. Methos tasted slightly salty and delicious. His heart never stopped racing. They pulled apart, finally.

"Wow," he heard someone whisper. He continued to stare at Methos, pierced by the stark look of desire he found there.

Thankfully, that was the end of the game and the party broke up.

* * *

MacLeod waited by the car, watching Methos kiss Marie goodbye chastely on the cheek. Others waved goodbye to him.

"It was nice meeting you," said someone whose name MacLeod couldn't remember. He was still watching Methos.

"Yes, you, too." MacLeod waved goodbye.

Methos walked over. They stood and stared at each other for a long moment. MacLeod looked down at his feet.

"She likes you, you know. It wouldn't take much." MacLeod had to say it, had to give Methos the choice.

It was amazing how bright Methos' eyes could be, softly glinting at him in the darkness of night. Methos leaned in close to MacLeod, looking back briefly at Marie and her friends climbing into their car.

"No," he said, softly. "Not this time." He turned back to MacLeod.

Suddenly MacLeod could breathe. "So, Methos, do you play this game often?"

Methos had that hidden little smile of his. "Once or twice. Tariq's always pushing to play, for some reason. I think he has a crush on Robert."

They should get in the car, MacLeod thought, and go home. Methos suddenly turned completely towards him and MacLeod's arms went around him and they hugged. Methos breathed into his neck and Mac felt his hands at his waist.

"It's not a bad game. But next time, I think I'd like to play it with just one person. I hate waiting so long for my turn."

Methos laughed. They left then, going home to the redecorated loft where MacLeod was certain he had several empty beer bottles just waiting.

~~~

the end.

 


End file.
